


What Does Rebecca Need From Me?

by ohmarqueliot



Category: Crazy Ex-Girlfriend (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, missing 8 months, nathaniel has some feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-27 05:53:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13874544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmarqueliot/pseuds/ohmarqueliot
Summary: Rebecca has a hard day, and Nathaniel wants to be there for her however he can. Set during the 8 month affair.





	What Does Rebecca Need From Me?

Making a final note at the bottom of the brief Tim had given him earlier, Nathaniel closed the folder and put it aside to return to him shortly. It had been good for a first draft – too good, and he suspected Paula had something to do with that. He couldn’t wait to see the kind of work she produced once she was a fully fledged lawyer. He knew for sure that the firm wasn’t going to let her out of their sight once she was fully accredited.

Leaning back and rolling his shoulders, he looked across at Rebecca’s side of the desk, currently sans Rebecca, and felt a twinge of anger stir inside him. They’d both attended a meeting with a pair of new clients this morning, and he’d been irritated when every question and comment and gesture had been directed towards him. Rebecca was usually a master at manoeuvring some of their clients’ gross misogyny into more business, but every time he’d given her the lead she’d just gone through the motions of fluffing their egos without the real heart that she usually put into it.

She’d ignored his questioning looks, so he’d reluctantly let the matter slide. He’d thought that maybe she was just distracted. As they’d left, the clients had shaken his hand firmly before turning to Rebecca. “Now, there’s no need for you to meet with us next time, sweetheart. I’m sure you’ve got far more important things to do.”

His tone had implied exactly what he thought those important things might be, and Nathaniel had bit back his own retort, looking forward to watching Rebecca finally put them in their place, even if they didn’t realise it – that was her specialty, and surely a comment like that would have pushed her over the edge. And it did, but not in the way he’d expected. Her face slackened, her shoulders dropping in what could only be described as defeat.

 _I should have said something._ Not only was she a damned good lawyer, but she was the senior partner of the bloody firm. He didn’t care how much money they were bringing in, he wasn’t going to just let them imply that she was better suited to filing or copying or answering phones. She was intelligent and brilliant and tough – which was why he was so surprised by her lack of fight that the two of them were stepping into the elevator before he realised that if anyone were going to have her back today, it would be him. Rebecca was usually someone who could well and truly take care of herself, but she’d just turned and walked over to sit at Paula’s desk.

So she didn’t want to talk about it – that’s fine. What wasn’t fine was the way that discomfort and anger and helplessness swirled around in his gut and made it take him an hour and a half to read through Tim’s stupid brief.

He looked up quickly when Rebecca walked into the office, his heart sinking when he saw the bags under eyes, the way her lips pinched together, the furrow in her brow. She was really not okay. Squeezing his hands into fists and then stretching his fingers out, he made himself stay behind his desk. “Hey,” he said with careful casualness. “I thought we could make a start on opening arguments together.”

“Yeah, sure,” she said quietly, taking her seat and keeping her eyes on her desk. “Sorry if you were waiting, I was helping Paula with something.”

“It’s fine.” _Look at me_. He just wanted to make her feel better, to show her how highly he thought of her. As a lawyer. As a business partner. But also… He cleared his throat, leaning forward slightly in his chair. “Although if that’s what we’re going to do, I think we might need some new pens,” he said, picking up his pen deliberately and dropping it into the open draw beside him. “I can’t seem to find mine anywhere.”

Finally, she looked up at him, and there was something haunted about the look in her eyes. _What the hell are you doing?_ he asked himself. What made him think that offering her sex would make her feel better? He just knew that when she was in his arms he couldn’t think of a single thing other than her. He felt amazing, he felt invincible. Maybe she felt the same, maybe she didn’t, but at least the offer was out there.

She stared at him for so long that he was pretty sure she wasn’t really seeing him anymore. After a good minute or two she lifted her chin, pushed out of her chair and walked out of the office without a backward glance.

Blinking after her, he rose halfway to his feet, sank back into his chair, and then stood up again. Was he supposed to follow her? He was, right? Or was she just walking away from him because she was disgusted by his proposition?

Not sure if she’d actually gone to the supply room, he made his way there anyway, careful not to look around too much in case anyone was watching him. The door to the supply room was open, and for a moment he thought the room was empty but then she rushed into him, her mouth immediately on his, her hands grabbing the lapels of his jacket. Her momentum pushed him backwards, and he barely managed to get the door closed behind him before he was pressed against it. His hands went to her waist automatically, and as she tilted her head and deepened the kiss he drew her closer, wrapping one arm around her. The other hand searched blindly for the lock right beside him, and as soon as it twisted underneath his fingers he threaded them through her hair, curling his fingers to give her a little of the roughness that she was asking for in the harsh way she was tugging at his tie.

He dropped his arms reluctantly when she pushed his jacket off his shoulders, and as soon as his arms were free he put them around her and lifted, picking her up and walking her over to the cupboard nearby. Breaking the kiss as he set her down, he moved his lips along her jaw, letting her roll his hips forward by the grip she had on his belt. She gasped, her breathing ragged, and despite a slowly growing uneasiness, he didn’t stop her when she grabbed his head and pulled him back so she could kiss him. Which was fine, it was great, until she broke off with a sob.

“Rebecca,” he tried, leaning away from her, but she shook her head adamantly, grabbing his tie again and pulling him back down to her, kissing and nipping her way down his neck and fuck it felt good. Her free hand started working at his belt and he felt himself stirring despite his concern, but when her lips on his neck changed from kissing to trembling all thoughts of arousal fled instantly. “Okay, stop,” he said, his hand closing over hers to halt her progress.

“Shut up,” she said, pulling her hand out of his grip and putting both of hers on his cheeks, straining forward to kiss him and he let her. For a long, stupid moment he considered that this was what she wanted.

And then she started shaking against him.

Gently pulling her hands away from his face, he wrapped his arms around her. Her hands were trapped between them and she flattened them on his chest, pushing him away, sticking her elbows out as she tried to struggle out of his grip. “No,” she said thickly. “This… this isn’t what we do,” she said, her voice breaking.

“I don’t care,” he said, tightening his grip on her, lowering his head and resting his cheek on the top of her head, and she sat frozen for a few long seconds. The tension flowed out of him when she stopped fighting him, her hands clinging at his shirt instead of trying to push him away. He moved one hand higher up her back, cupping the back of her head and holding her to him as she finally let herself cry.

He wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, him still standing between her legs, her tears slowly seeping through his shirt. Eventually she quietened, her breathing starting to return to normal, but she didn’t try and push him away. Not willing to let go of her but wanting her to know that he would if she wanted to, he loosened his grip but kept his arms around her, running his hand slowly up and down her back. Now that she was starting to calm down, he didn’t stop his mind from turning toward the assholes who had caused this. Anger spiked in him that someone could bring this reaction out in her. “I’ll call them. Straight away. We don’t need their business.”

“What?” Rebecca leaned back and he reluctantly dropped his arms. They settled on her waist instead – he wasn’t quite ready to let go yet, not until he knew she was okay. Her mascara was smeared underneath her eyes, her cheeks all blotchy. He wasn’t just going to quit the case, he was going to kill them. “This isn’t about what happened earlier. I mean it,” she added when he raised his eyebrows at her disbelievingly. “Okay. I mean it. And I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay,” he said, holding up his hands in surrender, and when she turned her eyes away from him he got the hint, stepping back. Closing her legs, she hugged her arms around herself, and he felt no small amount of regret that she’d rather take her own comfort than accept his. She didn’t want to talk about it with him, fine. But just moments ago, she’d clung to him like a lifeline and let herself break down in his arms.

 _What the hell are you doing?_ He wasn’t sure if the thought was directed more at her or at himself.

“Heather’s on bed rest,” she said suddenly. “She’s had a few dizzy spells. And it’s all my fault.” 

Her face screwed up again and then straightened as though she was trying to keep her emotions in order, and he stared at her incredulously. She was blaming herself for Heather being unwell? “You do realise that’s ridiculous, right?” he said bluntly. She shook her head, dropping her eyes again, and he couldn’t believe that she seriously thought that this was her fault. “Rebecca –“

“And I spoke to my wonderful mother,” she interrupted, grimacing. “She found out about the egg donation. The whole conversation was her telling me that it was a stupid idea and that this kid is going to have all of my problems and how _dare_ I make her a grandmother without giving her an actual grandchild. Cue a ten minute lecture about how she’s not old enough to be a grandmother, and how could I do this to her?” She slumped against the wall, her hands twisting uncertainly in her lap. “How did I ever think this was a good idea?” she asked, her voice small.

He wanted to take her into his arms again but wasn’t sure how she’d receive it. After all, _this isn’t what we do._ But still, she was talking to him. He took half a step closer, smiling at her faintly. “It was a good idea because you’re doing a wonderful thing for Darryl,” he told her firmly. He wasn’t going to let her believe anything else. How could she not see what a selfless thing she’d done? “And Heather is on bed rest because she overdid it at work – which is definitely not your influence,” he added, raising his eyebrows at her mischievously, and was rewarded when she huffed a laugh, rolling her eyes. It wasn’t much, but he’d take it. He’d take anything she gave him.

Taking that laugh as encouragement, he closed the distance between them, cupping her cheek with one hand while his thumb brushed the skin underneath her eyes, trying to wipe away tears and smudged mascara. He swallowed down the sudden lump in his throat when she closed her eyes, leaning into his touch. “Don’t let your mother get in your head,” he told her softly. “You’re stronger than that.”

She shook her head gently, but didn’t pull away. She rubbed the smudged mascara from her other cheek. “I’m really not.”

“Well I think you are,” he said, holding her gaze firmly when she opened her eyes and looked up at him. He leaned in slightly, determined that she saw his sincerity. “You’re one of the strongest people I know.” He meant it with every ounce of his being, and he needed her to feel it too.

Rebecca looked up at him searchingly, her eyes flicking between his. Slowly, her hands cupped his face, her fingers sliding up to run through his hair as she pulled him down to her, and he followed her lead willingly, touching her in a soft press of lips against lips. His hand slipped around to the back of her head, his fingers twining through her hair as they kissed. It was nothing like their usual kisses, rough and rushed and desperate. Instead, her touch was soft and slow and sweet, and he returned it in kind. Her mouth parted against his and as the kiss deepened he squeezed his eyes shut against the swell of emotions that rolled through him, emotions that he’d tried so hard to bury over the last few months.

When she pulled away he kept his eyes low. He couldn’t look at her, not yet, else she’d see everything in his eyes that he didn’t want to be feeling, that she wouldn’t want him to be feeling. He couldn’t look at her without thinking about how much he loved her.

And that wasn’t what she wanted.

“I’m sorry about your shirt,” she said, plucking at his shirt, and he glanced at the makeup smeared over it before reluctantly raising his eyes to look at her. She looked... better, he supposed. Tired, and like she’d just been crying, sure, but the hurt and despondency that had overtaken her earlier was gone at least.

“It’s fine,” he told her, not caring in the least what his shirt looked like. But he should, right? Absolutely he should. Straightening his tie, he stepped back and turned to look for his jacket, finding it lying on the floor by the door. Slipping it over his shoulders, he was relieved to see that it covered pretty much all of her smeared mascara.

He heard movement from the other side of the supply room, and looked over to see her sliding down from the bench, rubbing her hands over her face in a final attempt to righten herself. She walked towards him, and it wasn’t until she’d almost reached him that he realised she was actually heading for the door. Still, she stopped with her fingers on the handle. “Thank you,” she said solemnly.

“Any time,” he told her, hating himself for how completely he meant it. He made himself shrug, offering her a smile, and she returned it faintly before slipping out of the room.

He didn’t follow straight away, instead leaning back against the door, rubbing his hand over his face and letting out his breath heavily. He just needed a moment, just one minute to take all of those feelings and push them down, down into a deep part of him that he couldn’t find again.

Until the next time that she needed him.

He was so screwed.


End file.
